I really do. Saying someone is “broken”, when referring to an emotional state, just doesn’t make sense to me.
Why? Because they cry? Because they’re lost? Grieving something? Because they’re a mess?
Sure, some people are more resilient than others, and some stay down longer than others, but in my mind, never “broken”. That’s for a spoon or a bones or a computer. Feels very judgmental.
I’ve been noticing it a lot recently, and it’s been bothering me. Makes me mad when I hear it.
Friends were going on a 10 day trip and their planned house/dog sitter fell through, so in I swooped. I took Mayhem for a cortisol vacation (it’s a real thing, google showed me) since it’s been nothing but change for her for 8 months.
The home was immaculate. I mean, I was looking for dust and finally found some on day 5. The pup is an older, extremely well behaved Labrador. She poops on command.
And this is what I learned (besides that by comparison my house is filthy):
1. Mayhem does not need 2+ miles a day. Oh she’ll do it, but she’s almost 8 years old and doing so kept her body in a state of stress. Short bits of training and play, with every third day or so getting a long walk is enough.
2. I was keeping myself in a constant state of stress by running these dogs all over the place when they didn’t need it. Yeah, 6 miles a day is a great way to lose weight, but I was physically and mentally exhausted.
3. My husband’s laid back vibe that drives me crazy sometimes was good for the pups at home. Olive was less clingy, while Ruckus and Pepper kept each other fully entertained.
4. I can relax at home and not constantly worry about what dog needs what. They are fine.
I actually sat and read this weekend and didn’t exhaust myself. It was great.
I had a countdown going on for a minute there. It was for my vacation, in case you were curious. I had all kinds of plans for the blog countdown – a quick post daily, photos of the dogs every day so then I could make a cute video. Whole lotta nope.
I can think of two schools of thought to that – either I’m putting too much pressure on myself to do something that is a hobby, OR, stop being a lazy, procrastinating asshole. You can probably tell I agree more with the latter. Because I am a jerk. An undisciplined jerk.
Now that I’ve explained, I need a new countdown date. I have a bday with a zero in it coming up, so I could do that. No I will not say which decade I will be entering because you would be shocked, shocked and dismayed, by my immaturity. My emotional development stopped somewhere in the high teens but luckily I have other qualities that balance that out. Or that’s what I’m assuming because I do have friends that aren’t family and I am married so someone likes me.
Holy crap I just googled it’s less than 60 days until I am ?0.
Did I tell you I grew up in a boarding school? Well, I grew up in a boarding school. One of the first things they did will drill in the importance of schedules. We all (twenty or so) would have to sit in the common room and draw our own schedule charts.
This is good when you are young and wild and unruly. Now, I think I would be considered in the more stringent term of “regimented”, which can make things a wee bit boring. This was kind of the point of this blog, to make me think about my days because you can pretty much set your clock by me.
I know my dogs do. Especially Mayhem. And she likes it. When I do something out of order or the timing of things are disrupted, she is fully aware.
However, for me, the human, it makes it hard for me to change things up. You know, thrill myself by vacuuming in the morning instead of the afternoon, pushing back snuggle time to work on a project. I will want to work out, or do some writing, but discover I’m 15 minutes past my target start time so I won’t do it, then start early on the next thing. Oooo an extra load of laundry. Goody. And so I get bored. Cage of my own making.
Anyhow, just thoughts, and me mixing up my evening by doing this blah blah post.
The cone. Is. OFF!
There has been much celebrating, in the form of rolling on the ground, biting ankles, biting toys, scavaging for rabbit poo, and barking just to bark. I think she wanted to burn the cone under the full moon and dance around it.
I was hesitant to take the cone off, but my husband said the stitches were done doing their thing, and most of the healing under the scab was done. It’s nice having a paramedic / EMT spousal unit. It’s like having a reference book you don’t have to carry around. And what am I a reference for? Well, if he is interested in story structure and genre and themes and the hero’s journey, well, he knows who to turn to.
Took the pups on a hike today. A new trail and I was getting quite bored. Trees rocks snow, kaaaaay. Then I met some people coming up the trail and they mentioned caves. Caves? Yes, I will cross the stream twice over slippery, crackling ice to see limestone caves. And we did.
freckled crab 